


101 Candles

by Rainne



Category: Captain America (Movies)
Genre: Gen, Steve Rogers's Birthday
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-07-04
Updated: 2019-07-04
Packaged: 2020-06-09 16:34:06
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,164
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/19479778
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Rainne/pseuds/Rainne
Summary: Steve seriously does not want a party.





	101 Candles

“I’m serious, Buck, I don’t want a party.”

“Oh come on, Steve, we have to have a party.”

“No, we do not.” Steve folded his arms, staring Bucky down. “We absolutely do not.”

“It’s the Fourth of July!” Bucky exclaimed. “How can we not have a party to celebrate America?”

“Don’t piss on my leg and tell me it’s raining,” Steve replied. “Whatever bullshit you have planned, just remember that you are a year _older_ than me.”

Bucky opened his mouth, probably to deny that he had any such plans, and then closed it again. “You drive a hard bargain,” he acknowledged.

“I seriously do not want a party.” Steve shook his head, looking tired. “Whatever you have planned, please cancel it.”

Bucky sighed. “What if we just have a few people over, then? Sam, Natasha, Clint, Tony and Pepper. Thor’s out of town with his girlfriend but Bruce is here.”

Steve took a deep breath. “Fine,” he said. “But it needs to be _here_ , not at the Tower. I don’t trust Tony not to try to throw some huge thing at the last minute.”

Bucky winced, and Steve shook his head. “How hard did you have to threaten him?”

“I had to walk into the lab with a length of pipe in my hand,” Bucky admitted. “It got ugly for a minute, but I didn’t have to actually smash anything.” Then he widened his eyes, putting on a wholesomely hopeful expression. “Can we at least get a cake?” he asked. “You know birthday cake is my favorite.”

Steve glared. “You are trying my patience, you know that, right?”

Bucky pumped his fist. “Awesome. Thank you for not making me cancel the bakery.”

Steve rolled his eyes.

~*~

Bucky ended up calling for a potluck. “He seriously doesn’t want a party,” he said to Natasha over the phone. “I get the impression that he would be genuinely unhappy with one. So I talked him up to something really low-key at the house. I figured if everybody brought something - you know. So I got the cake and I’m making chicken wings.”

“Don’t make them hot,” Natasha warned him. “You know Clint can’t handle hot stuff, no matter how hard he tries.”

“No worries,” Bucky replied. “I got a teriyaki glaze. We had them once before, a few weeks ago, and they were really good.”

“I’ll bring something pedestrian,” Natasha said. “Potato salad or something.”

“Do you even know how to make potato salad?” Bucky asked.

He could hear her shrug from across the phone line. “I assume you make a salad and then put potatoes on it, but what do I know? I don’t cook.”

“Mmmmaybe pick some up at a deli,” Bucky suggested. “And don’t let Stark hire a caterer.”

“Don’t worry,” Natasha replied. “Pepper took care of that.”

Bucky was silent for a moment before asking, “Pepper stopped Tony, or Pepper hired a caterer?”

“Pepper came from money,” Natasha pointed out. “I’m fairly sure the only reason she has a kitchen is because it’s the sort of thing you’re supposed to have in a house.”

“Steve’s going to kill me,” Bucky moaned.

~*~

The caterers arrived around eleven on Thursday morning to set up. Steve glared at Bucky the whole time they were there, a menacing presence in the living room’s bay window seat. After they left, Bucky held up his hands. “I swear to God I had nothing to do with this,” he said. “I told everybody potluck.”

“Did you explain to Tony what the word potluck actually means?”

“According to Natasha, this is actually Pepper’s doing.”

“Natasha doesn’t usually pass the buck like that,” Steve mused. “So I guess it must be true. Still.” He wandered over to the long table that was now set up on the side of the living room and lifted the lid of one of the chafing dishes. “Ooh,” he said, almost against his will.

“Something good?” Bucky asked.

“Those little wieners wrapped in dough,” Steve said. He set the lid back down and checked another. “Meatballs in barbecue sauce.”

Bucky sighed with relief. “At least she told them it was plain party food and not fancy party food. It would have sucked if we’d ended up with, like, raw salmon on toast rounds or some shit.”

Steve, thinking of the canapés that had been circulating at the last gala he’d been suckered into attending, shuddered. “Thank God.”

About twenty minutes after the caterers left, Clint showed up (through the fire escape window, of course) with a huge Tupperware bowl full of chocolate chip cookies. “I made them myself,” he said, finding a place on the buffet table for them. “Don’t look like that. Here, try one.” He popped the lid off and offered the bowl to Bucky.

Somewhat reluctantly, Bucky took one, but he blinked when he took a bite and unashamedly crammed the rest of it into his mouth, reaching for another. “Damn, these are good!” he exclaimed.

“Can’t take all the credit,” Clint replied, putting the lid back on the bowl. “It’s just the Toll House recipe.”

“Don’t care. Still good.” Bucky finished off the second cookie just as the door buzzer went. Tony and Pepper had arrived with Bruce in tow.

Pepper immediately went to check on the buffet and pronounced herself satisfied after peeping into each dish. “I know you said not to make a big to-do,” she said apologetically to Steve, “but honestly, neither Tony nor I can cook, and I wanted to contribute something.”

“It’s fine, Pepper,” Steve said. “Really. I appreciate it. And everything looks and smells delicious.”

“Who are we waiting on?” Tony asked. “I’m hungry.”

“Nat and Sam,” Bucky said, flipping the TV on and putting it on one of the music channels, the volume low. “She said she was bringing potato salad.”

“Did she say anything about making a salad and putting potatoes on it?” Clint asked. “Because you know she takes things like that very literally.”

“I may have suggested that she just pick some up from a deli on the way,” Bucky replied.

Sam and Nat arrived together a few minutes later; Natasha had in fact brought deli potato salad, and Sam had picked up the birthday cake. Steve passed out paper plates and plastic cutlery, and they all descended on the food, filling their plates and finding places to perch and eat and chat.

Quietly, Bucky came and sat in the window seat beside Steve. “I know it’s bigger than you wanted,” he said, “but is it okay anyway?”

Steve smiled, leaning over to bump his shoulder against Bucky’s. “It’s great,” he said softly. “I didn’t know I wanted it, but now that it’s happening it’s great.”

“Good,” Bucky said, grinning. “Because I still need to stick a hundred and one candles onto that cake. It may take me awhile.”

“I’ll tell you exactly where you can stick your hundred and one candles,” Steve replied. “And it has nothing to do with the cake.”


End file.
